


Guardian Scotsman

by writtenthroughtime



Category: Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Brian and Ellen Live, Claire is Raised by Murtagh, Daddy!Murtagh, F/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-11-16 23:48:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11263554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writtenthroughtime/pseuds/writtenthroughtime
Summary: Prompt:What about a story about Claire as a child or a teenager and somehow gets raised by Murtagh?





	1. Chapter 1

Whimpers pierced the dark, unforgiving landscape.

“Best keep yer wits about ye, Brian,” Murtagh said as the two men soundlessly made their way home.

“Ach! Dinna be sae daft, Murtagh. Do ye really expect the English to be cowering away in the night as a distraction to capture or kill us?”

Murtagh scoffed at his cousin’s lackadaisical attitude. _It would be like the English_ , he thought as they rode deeper into the woods and closer to the keening whimpers that were steadily turning into loud sobs, _to set a trap and accuse an honest man of_ treachery for _wanting to help_.

“Do ye hear that?” Brian whispered, holding his hand up in a halting motion.

“Aye,” the gruffer man replied. “If it’s no the English it could be an animal, or something worse. That accursed faerie hill is just on the other side of the trees.”

“That’s no an animal, Murtagh,” Brian replied, eyes going wide. “That sounds like…Y’AH!” He roared kicking his horse into action, racing towards the screaming sobs. The sounds of his horse’s hooves thundered in his ears, as well as his racing heart.

Brian threw himself from his horse, just in time to witness a boar circling something tucked against the roots of a tree. The sobs had quieted to terrified gasps as the menacing animal lurked closer, rutting the earth seeking its prey.

“Brian!” Murtagh yelled.

“Shh!” he exclaimed, waving his cousin down closer.

“Christ!” Murtagh whispered, seeing the boar and his cousin’s foolish plan taking place. “You mean to kill it then?”

“Aye, but I canna do it alone and I’ve only known one man to kill a boar with his bare hands before.” Had there been light beneath the brambles of their spot, Murtagh would have seen the sidelong glance and the mischief in his cousin’s eyes, as it were the only thing visible was the gleam of the moon off his teeth as he smiled. “We canna risk a gunshot for the powder, the chance of being heard, or even killing what the boar is so intent on finding by scent.”

“What makes ye think the creature the boar is after is worth saving?”

“Trust me, cousin.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Murtagh shook his head in resignation. “What is your plan?”

“We kill it and and drag it home to our family for supper.”

“Lord, give me strength,” Murtagh whispered into the night. “Ye’ve no other plans than just kill it?”

“Why would I need that when you are here, Boarkiller?” The sarcastic tone did not escape Murtagh’s notice.

“Fine, but I want the tusks, just as before.”

“Easily done!” Brian chortled.

The drawing of their blades without a sound had become second nature. To be able to creep around from behind and not make a sound had advantages in skirmishes it had become handy, as well as the hunt. Murtagh crept to one side, as Brian stayed behind the animal. With uncanny speed, Murtagh jumped on top of the unsuspecting animal, plunging his dirk deep into it’s thick neck. The beast thrashed and bucked, trying to get Murtagh from it’s body, but with every twist, the dirk dug deeper, spilling more of its blood. As the boar grew sack in Murtagh’s arms, he pulled the dirk from it’s neck, saying a prayer of thanks for the meat that would soon feed a family.

A gasp just ahead of him caused Murtagh to look up and into the terrified eyes of a little girl.

“Oh Christ,” He murmured taking a step towards the frightened child, who scrambled backward as if trying to meld into the tree itself. “I’ll no hurt ye, the beast is dead.”

She shook her head and began to cry in earnest, her chest heaved with each sob.

“Please! Please!” She cried out, shaking her head even harder. “Please don’t! Please!”

“Wheesht, ye’ll no come to harm from me.” He held out a hand, and her eyes grew wide and she began her pleas tenfold looking down at the blood drenched hand.

Murtagh swore when he saw the blood still clinging to his hand, and roughly wiped it on the underside of his kilt. He held out his hand again, in silent offering of safety. The girl did not accept his hand but looked over his shoulder to where Brian stood, arms loose at his sides, his face an unreadable mask.

“We’ll no hurt ye a leannan.” Brian said, hoping to help ease her discomfort. “But there may be some who are no as kind in these woods so late at night. I have a home, a wife, and a daughter who looks to be about your age. We can take you there where we can promise you a warm food and a bed with a roof over your head.”

The girl looked from Brian to Murtagh and down to Murtagh’s hand. She curled in on herself for a second then shook her head. “What are you saying? Please don’t hurt me. I-I-”

Recognition dawned on Brian’s face the same as it did Murtagh’s, English. The lass was English and hadn’t a lick of Gaelic to help her. Where is her family? Had the boar massacred a family? Or had she run off from a caravan of English traveling to one of the outposts?

“We’ll nae hurt ye lass,” Murtagh said, her eyes widened and her shoulders relaxed at the familiar tongue, even accented as it was.

“You won’t?” She stuttered.

“Nae, we willnae harm a hair on yer head. Brian,” he nodded behind him, “offered ye food, shelter, and safety with his family. He has a wife and children–a lass–similar in age to ye. Will ye come wi’ us? Ye may no find a kinder man in these woods, any time of the day, lass.”

She hesitated. _Smart girl_ , Murtagh thought.

“Can I have both of your words that I will not be harmed? I-I-I lost my way and I just want to go home. Please, I just want to go home. If I go with you, will you help me get back?”

“Aye, lass. I swear.” Murtagh said in a tender voice, Brian had only heard him speak to wee James with.

She nodded and gripped his hand. “So if he’s Brian, what is your name?”

“Murtagh,” he replied gruffly, “Now up ye get lass.” He pulled her to her feet, noticing the small wound on her leg. Murtagh scooped her up in his arms and carried her back to his horse. “Have ye ever ridden lass?”

She nodded. “My uncle taught me how to ride just last summer when we were in Ireland.”

“That’s verra good, lass. Then ye’ll ken to keep still for a moment, aye?”

“Yes,” she nodded, then started patting the horse’s neck in soothing strokes.

Murtagh pulled the bonnet from his head and swore quietly once out of earshot. “She’s English, Brian. And she said she has an Uncle that travels. Could he be near here? Dead?”

Brian shook his head. “I dinna ken, but we have a duty to help her.”

“And what if the English come traipsing up to Lallybroch? Will ye risk Ellen and the bairns for an Englishwoman?”

“She’s a child, Murtagh. Surely you see she’s no a danger to us.”

Murtagh snorted in derision. “Aye, weel, the faster we get out of these woods, the faster we can ask her about her past and find out who might be looking for her.”

Brian clapped his cousin on the back. “Just wait, cousin, she’ll have you wrapped around your finger faster than ye ken. A child doesna have to be yer own to care for them as such. I saw how ye were just then wi’ her. Ye’ve already formed an attachment.”

Murtagh shrugged his cousin off, “I dinna see that happening.” he said, but inside he knew Brian was right. The girl was terrified and needed protection, and he could provide that. The bairns Brian and Ellen had were sources of joy for him, but he kept his distance, the pang in his heart of the bairns not being his own at times was worse than being secluded and alone.

The two men worked swiftly, gutting the boar and wrapping it for the journey home.

“Do you not have an auto?” The girl asked, looking around. “And where is the road? I was trying to find it before it got dark, and then no street lights, or city lights! Where is everything? Why can’t I see the city from here?”

Murtagh sat stunned at the rapid fire of questions from the lass. “Ye are a curious one aren’t ye?”

She tensed and simply nodded. “Sorry.”

Murtagh let out a laugh. “Dinna be sorry lass, but ask questions I ken the answers to, aye? I dinna ken what an auto is or street lights. Do ye mean a torch? We canna travel at night wi’ a torch lest we be noticed by something or someone we dinna wish to tangle with.”

The lass’s shoulders tensed. “What do you mean you don’t know what an auto is? They’ve been around for years and years!”

Murtagh shook his head. “Sorry lass, I dinna ken yer meaning, unless ye speak of automatons, aye I ken those just fine and dinna care for them.”

They rode in silence, and as grateful as he was for the silence, it unnerved him from the tense way she held herself before him.

“Lass, what is yer name? I canna keep callin’ ye lass, and I ken Ellen will want to ken what to call ye as soon as ye arrive.”

“Claire, Claire Beauchamp.” She answered in a small voice. “Can you tell me about where we’re going and who Ellen is?”

“Aye, that I can.” Murtagh began and told the lass–Claire– about Lallybroch and the family she’d encounter. Halfway through his tale, he felt the hard thump of her head hitting his chest as she fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun backlit the white of the Lallybroch Estate from behind in a familiar welcoming glow. Murtagh felt his muscles sag in relief at the sight of home. The lass was still slumped against his chest in deep sleep.

“Lass,” he said, jostling her shoulder. No response. “Lass,” he tried again with slightly more force.

A moan and grumble of annoyance came from the sleepy child, who promptly turned attempting to bury her head deeper into his tunic. Instead of blocking out the light and fading back into sleep, she tilted, losing her balance and started to fall from the saddle.

“Ifrinn!” Murtagh exclaimed as he quickly flung his arm around the child to keep her upright. Her eyes popped open wide with the shock of the near fall as a shriek escaped her lips. Her fingers dug into his forearm trying with all her might to find her balance.

“Easy there, lass. I’ve got ye. Ye’re safe.” He said soothingly, as he felt her heart hammering against his chest.

Short, curt nods were the only response Murtagh received from the lass.

“Lass?”

“Y-yes?” She breathed out, her voice hoarse yet shaky.

“Are ye ready to dismount? We’re home.”

Claire turned from Murtagh and looked forward at the towering estate, chimneys smoking and animals rustling in their morning routine.

“This is where you live?”

“Aye,” Murtagh smiled at the obvious awe in her voice. “The house should be rousing as we speak. I ken Mrs. Crook will have breakfast underway and Ellen will want ye to get cleaned up and more comfortable before eating.”

“Okay.” She replied nervously. After a second's hesitation, she turned back to him and asked, “What’s your last name and Mr. Brian’s? I can’t very well call any of you by your given name, it isn’t proper or polite during first introductions.”

Murtagh let out a bark of laughter. “Proper, eh? Lass ye’re in the highlands we dinna care too much for English properness.”

Claire scowled. “I don’t feel comfortable simply calling any of you by your given names. Especially a lady such as Mr. Brian’s wife.”

“Weel if ye are insisting all that much on being proper,” Murtagh said, wiping an errant tear of laughter from his face, “Our last names are all Fraser. If ye’re wanting to be formal, Brian is Laird Fraser and his wife is Lady Fraser.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “Laird? As in ruler of these lands?”

“Och, aye, that he is. But dinna let that worry ye o’er much. Brian is a good man, and his wife is the strongest woman with a kind heart ye’ll ever meet. They’ll no harm ye. Not a single person who lives on this estate, nor the folk who live on his land will dare harm ye whilst ye’re under his protection.”

Claire gave a short nod and looked back to see the Laird dismounting and handing his horse off to a stable boy.

“You think he’ll really protect me?”

“Aye, lass. I ken wi’ all I am that he will.”

“Do you…” she trailed off, looking down at the pommel and ignoring Murtagh’s outstretched hand to help her down.

“Do I what, Claire?”

Her head whipped up at her name and looked at the gruff man’s kind eyes. “Do you think he’ll help me get home? Or find my Uncle?”

Murtagh let out a sigh and grabbed Claire by the waist, hoisting her off his horse.

“I believe he’ll try to help ye as best he can, lass.”

She sighed and let the matter drop for the moment.

A woman with flowing red hair stood in the doorway to the estate, her stomach round with child and face bright with joy.

“Brian!” She exclaimed, catching the Laird’s attention. A beaming smile broke out on the man’s face as he ran across the dooryard and scooped the woman up into a romantic embrace. Claire felt her cheeks heat and she looked down, giving the couple privacy. A moment later, the woman had strode down the steps and lifted her chin.

“Hello dear,” she said, her eyes kind and voice the soft comfort only a mother could bring.

“Hello Lady Fraser,” Claire said quickly.

Ellen laughed, “Ach none of that, just call me Ellen. What should I call ye?”

“Claire.”

The warm smile Ellen gave Claire did not go unnoticed by either man. It was a smile of acceptance, of love and concern; a smile of genuine affection. Murtagh released a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding as he watched Ellen take Claire’s hand and lead her into the house. Brian thumped Murtagh on the back.

“Ellen’ll see that she’s comfortable. Dinna fash yerself man!”

Murtagh shook off his cousin and gruffly said, “I’m no worried!”

Brian let out a laugh and followed his wife into the house.

The estate was warm and cozy compared to the places her Uncle Lamb had taken her in Scotland. Granted before she had always been sleeping in tents or on a dig site, never did they get the chance to stay in a real estate.

“My daughter Jenny is about yer size,” Ellen told Claire as they came to a stop on the third floor. “Wait here darling, I’m just going to fetch ye some clothes and let Mrs. Crook know to send young Coira up with hot water for ye to bathe.”

“Yes ma’am,” Claire responded and sat down on the chair by the vanity.

Claire looked around the beautiful room, the dawn light bringing the dark blues to life. She couldn’t help wonder where in Scotland she was. She had slept, uncomfortably, on the horse with Murtagh, and she didn’t recognize the area from any of the explorations her Uncle had taken her on.

“Who are you? Why are ye in my Mam and Da’s room? No one should be in here.”

The voice made her jump and heart hammer faster than before. “I-I-I’m Claire. Who are you?”

The boy looked exactly like his mother, red curls bouncing and inquisitiveness etched across his features. “My name’s Jamie, but you didn’t answer my second question. Why are you in here? No one is supposed to be in the Laird’s bedchambers.”

“You are.” Claire pointed out.

The boy made a Scottish noise of dismissal. “Aye, only cause the door was open and Mam and Da are nowhere to be seen.”

“That doesn’t sound like a very good reason,” Claire said, curiosity now gnawing at her gut.

“I dinna have to explain myself to a Sassenach.”

“James!” Ellen Fraser admonished.

The boy winced, his eyes scrunching shut. “Ma, I was just--”

“I ken fine what ye were doing young man. Ye were bothering our guest.”

“No Ma! I-”

“Not another word James Alexander, go downstairs help yer Da before breakfast. We’ll deal with this later.”

Jamie’s head hung dejectedly as he shuffled back to the door. “Aye, Mam. Sorry I called ye a Sassenach, Miss Claire. I was only joking wi’ ye. I didna mean it unkindly.”

Before Claire could say anything to him, he was gone.

“Sorry for my son, dear one. He doesna ken his manners some of the time. He’s a headstrong one, but a sweetheart when ye get to know him.”

Claire nodded, “He didn’t act like he was trying to be mean, just curious.”

Ellen laughed. “Aye, curious. That’s a nice way to say he was bothering ye. Little devil kens he no supposed to be in this room.”

“That’s what he told me! He said no one was supposed to be in the Laird’s chambers.”

“Weel he’s no wrong. But I brought ye in here, and as the Laird’s wife, I can bend the rules, aye?” She said with a wink.

Claire giggled and hopped off the chair. “Thank you for being so kind to me Mrs. Fra--Ellen” Claire stopped mid word at the look Ellen gave her.

“Ach, dear one, it’s no problem at all. Here, I’ve laid out the gown for ye and the undergarments. Do ye want someone to help ye wash and dress?”

“I can handle washing, but I’m not familiar with this style of clothing. Will you help me?”

“Aye, dear one. I will.” Ellen said just as a knock sounded at the door.

“Ah! Coira good, bring the buckets over here.”

A young girl with nearly black hair came in with a curtsey, “Aye Lady. Will there be anything else ye’re needing from me?”

“Not at the moment, thank-you Coira. Please tell Mrs. Crook that I’ll be down with a guest as soon as she’s cleaned up and that breakfast can start without us. I ken the men are hungry from their journey.”

“Aye Mistress,” Coira said with a dip of her head and left the room.

“Now, I’ll leave ye to it. I’ll be back in about ten minutes to help ye get dressed. Is that enough time dear?”

Claire nodded and began to loosen the belt at her waist. Ellen left the room to find Jenny tucked in the corner of the hall, ear pressed to the wall where the bedchamber resided.

“Jenny?”

The girl jolted up, eyes wide from being caught.

“Morning Mam. Is it true we have a Sassenach in the house?”

“Aye, and dinna go about calling her as such. She’s just a little girl like yourself and we will treat her with respect and kindness.” Ellen gave her precocious daughter a withering look.

“Aye Mam. Is she nice?”

“Yes darling, she most definitely is. I dinna ken her story just yet. I was going to ask her that and find out what yer father and Murtagh have to say about how they found her.

“She’s alone? But Mam, we can’t leave her alone!”

“Are ye saying she may try to steal from us?”

“No! I wouldn’t want to be alone and if she’s all alone…”

Ellen cupped her daughter’s face. “My sweet child, we’re no going to let her starve or be alone for long. We’ll find out about her family and if we can find them we’ll send her home. If not, then we’ll give her a home.” Jenny leaned into her mother’s embrace. “Do ye think ye could become friends wi’ her?”

“Oh yes, Mam! A girl to play with! I canna believe it!” Jenny trilled and bounded down the stairs yelling, “Da! I’m going to have someone like me to play with! No more stinky boys!”

With a laugh and a shake of her head, Ellen turned back to her bedroom door and knocked. “Claire? Dear one, do you need any help?”

“Umm, yes. Please, Mrs. Fraser, I would appreciate it.” The girl was well spoken and acted as though she were a grown woman instead of a young child. It made Ellen’s heart ache. What has happened in this child’s life to make her so proper yet never worn a garment such as the simple dress offered?

When Ellen opened the door, she found the girl wrapped in the scrap of fabric she’d left out for her. Claire’s hair dripped in unruly curls down her back.

“Here, arms up!” Ellen said, holding out the shift. Claire timidly let the towel drop and allowed the shift to fall over her head. “This next,” she said holding out a vest that laced up the back. “There we go, now time for your skirt, turn please.” Claire turned around facing away from Ellen again as the woman tied the skirts around her waist. “Finally, I believe ye can handle these,” Ellen said holding out stockings and small leather shoes.

“Can I not wear my boots?” Claire asked, taking the shoes from Ellen.

“Aye, ye can once I’ve had them cleaned up. They’re caked in mud and could use a good shine. I wouldna let something so fine go to waste. I’ll have yer breeches and tunic washed as well. It’s no so proper for a girl to wear such clothes, but I ken it’s all ye have.”

Claire nodded. “Thank you. I don’t normally wear dresses. My Uncle is an archeologist and I’m usually stomping around the countryside with him. Dresses just get in the way.” She said with a wrinkle in her nose at the thought of permanently wearing dresses.

Ellen let out a laugh and pulled Claire over to the fire to comb out her hair.

“Aye, I ken dresses can be a nuisance when ye’re trying to run about the countryside, but when yer in the house it must be nice to wear something a little bit more appropriate.”

Claire wrinkled her nose further and said in earnest, “No ma’am. I much prefer my trousers and tunics to dresses. They’re so much more comfortable!”

Ellen began to hum as she gently combed out Claire’s hair.

“Claire, ye dinna have to answer this, but how old are ye darling? And where is yer family? This Uncle ye’ve mentioned, where did ye see him last?”

“I’m ten years old. I’ll be 11 on the 20th of October… my family… my family,” Claire’s eyes began to mist over with tears. “My parents died when I was five and my Uncle Lamb took me in. He’s the only family I’ve got.” She turned her head to face Ellen, tears now flowing down her cheeks. “Will you help me find him? I don’t know where he is! I just want to go home!”

“Shhh, shhh, shhh, child. Shhhh. Ye’ll be okay. I know my Brian and he’ll help with everything that he is to get you back to yer Uncle Lamb.” Ellen picked up Claire and began to rock her on her lap.

Brian and Murtagh chose that moment to burst into the Laird’s chambers.

“Claire?” Murtagh said in distress. “Ellen, what have ye done? What’s wrong wi’ the lass?”

Ellen scoffed. “I didna do a thing, Murtagh Fitzgibbons Fraser! I asked her about her family and she’s still upset over losing them.”

Claire’s crying increased as the thought of truly being lost to her Uncle settled in.

“Come here, lass,” Murtagh said softly, pulling Claire out of Ellen’s grasp and into his own. Claire wrapped herself around Murtagh, burying her head in his neck and cried her fears away.

“Lass?” A hiccuping sob was his answer.

“Can ye tell me yer Uncle’s name so that we can ask about the village and even send word to the towns close to where we found ye to look for him?”

Claire nodded her head and mumbled into his skin, “Quentin Lambert Beauchamp. He’s an archeologist and he was studying the ancient pylons outside Inverness, but something happened. I heard screaming and then my head hurt and Uncle Lamb was gone and I was here alone. I couldn’t find our car or the road back to the city. I just want to go home!”

Murtagh looked up to see if Brian and Ellen understood the child. Their stricken looks of concern told them all he needed to know.

The child was lost and stolen away by the Auld Ones, now his--theirs--to protect.


End file.
